


Twist

by NorthernSerpent



Series: Falice: From A to Z [20]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alice Smith (Alice Cooper) centric, Alice Smith tries, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst, Bad Parenting, F/M, Gen, No Cult, Past Alice Cooper/FP Jones II, Past Relationship(s), Teenage Parents, mentioned past falice, no Griffins and Gargoyles, past alice/hal, past teenage falice, southside serpents, teenage Alice Smith (Alice Cooper), this is Alice's story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-08-22 08:36:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16594511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernSerpent/pseuds/NorthernSerpent
Summary: A world where Alice stayed on the Southside while FP escaped to the North. Role reversal AU.





	1. Like Mother, Like Daughter

Alice came home to find her mother sitting on their ratty old couch that reeked of stale cigarettes. She had a shot glass in one hand and a familiar white stick firmly clenched in the other. Alice knew it was futile to ask where her mother had found it. She would just claim stumbled across it while looking for _bus money_ or whatever other euphemism they were now using for drug money.

“You like to pretend that you’re better than me but I see you’re following in my footsteps,” Her mother's laugh was as cheap as the tequila she slung back.  “Like mother like daughter.”

Alice’s heart leapt to her throat. “I am nothing like you.”

“16 and pregnant? Honey you _are_ me," she laughed. "Honestly, Alice, I don't know how this didn't happen sooner given that you’re the school slut.”

Alice clenched her jaw, bit back the sharp retort that would surely land her on the streets. _She’s just drunk_ , Alice reminded herself. _She doesn’t mean it._

“So whatcha going to do?” her mother tossed her piece of lime with the rest of the junk on the coffee table. Old magazines, cigarette butts from overflowing ashtrays overflowed onto the crowded surface.

Alice sighed. “I don't know.” It was the truth.

“Well figure it out quick. You’re on a timeline and unlike me, you've got options. You don't have to go through with it. Hell, you might still be able to graduate even though I don’t know what good that would do.”

“Do you wish you didn’t have me?” Alice heard the words tumble out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“How can you ask me that?” her mother snapped. “I was too far along and not even a back-alley doctor would perform an abortion. God, you're not going to start crying are you? I'm giving you the truth. Alice. I did what I had to do, you know that. No matter how hard you pretend that you’re better than me, you're going to screw it up like I did.”

Alice swallowed the hurt, refused to give her wasted mother the satisfaction of seeing her tears. “Forget I asked.”

She didn’t know why she asked. Alice had always known that her mother resented her for derailing her life. It’s not like it was great secret or anything. She brought it up frequently enough.

Later while Alice stared at her dark ceiling and rested a hand on her flat stomach, she vowed that her kid would never know what it felt like to be unloved.  


-

Alice finished off her junior year, and on the first day of summer vacation, she knocked on The King’s door.

“What?” he flung open the door. The faint smell of cheap whiskey strong enough to singe your digestive tract from the inside out lingered in the air. It wasn’t even 10 o’clock in the morning and Alice couldn’t tell if he was hungover or still drunk. “Alice...haven’t you heard? Junior’s gone Northside. Decided he’d rather live on his friend’s couch than in this dump.”

“Fuck him,” she said earnestly and it must have been the right thing to say because his glassy eyes lit up. “I’m not here for him. I’m here for business.”

“Oh?”

“I want more responsibility.”

“Why?” he growled. “What kind of trouble you in?

“I need to get out of my mom’s trailer. She's gone batshit. I can’t keep living there.”

She didn’t mention his grandchild growing in her belly. Didn’t want to risk him staking claim to the unborn prince or princess. As much as she hated FP Junior for running away, she definitely understood why he did. A broken arm was the final push the reluctant prince needed before crossing the tracks and never looking back.

“Something ain't right with that woman…” the King scratched the back of his neck while he nodded his head sagely.

“So you see why I need to get out,” Alice pleaded. “Please, let me do more. You know you can count on me.”

“You know you’ll have to prove yourself.”

“I know,” she nodded firmly.  “I won’t let you down.”

It started with extra shifts at the Wyrm, working at the soup kitchen, and promoting the annual charity bike ride. By the end of the summer she was selling dimebags of weed to thrill-seeking Northsiders and delivering mysterious packages from Centreville.

-

Alice didn’t know morning sickness could hit any time it pleased until it she spent half the night hugging the toilet while her mother's cries of ecstasy and squeaky bed springs permeated through the thin trailer walls.

She turned the fan on and made makeshift earplugs out of cotton balls.

“I'm nothing like her,” she whispered to her stomach, but it was mostly to herself. 

-

At week 14, according to Doctor Patel, the fetus was now about the size of a chicken nugget. It astounded her that just a few weeks ago it was smaller than a pea and before that it wasn’t even a thought.

“Hey Lil’ Chicken,” she whispered at the sonogram. It didn't matter that its ears had yet to fully develop. “I'm excited to meet you.”

Soon she was calling it Chic.

-

By the fall, word had gotten around. It was her probably her gossipy mother’s doing, although her favourite jeans that didn’t quite fit also didn’t help matters.

Alice never did her senior year opting to dive deeper and deeper into the gang. She had been worried that The King would make her take a back seat once the bump became obvious and she could no longer hide it. Instead he grinned, his eyes twinkling with dangerous ideas, and sent her across the border because it who's going suspect a pregnant lady of contraband?

Alice left her leather at home and traded it in for a polyester blouse. She painted her nails a nice neutral colour and pretended that she was a good girl who could pass in the Northside. Inside her trunk she had rolls of Christmas wrapping paper with money printed on the inside and drugs stuffed inside the cardboard tubes.

-

Sometimes she wondered if he ever noticed her absence like she noticed his. She was quick to shoot down the invasive thought because FP had made is clear he didn't want anything to do with her.  He would rather chase Vixen skirts than give her two minutes of his time. He wasn't a part of her life and Alice sure as hell would not let Chic ever feel the pain of having an incompetent parent.

There were only two other people in the world who knew the truth about Chic’s parentage and that was only because they happened to be in the bathroom while Alice carelessly took the test at school.

She should have done it at Pop’s… really she should have done it almost anywhere else. And she shouldn't have let his name to Sierra and Hermione.

If they were to ever tell him she could deny it.

 _Serpent Slut_ had once been branded on her locker.

The sperm donor could be anybody.

(No, it really couldn't be.)

-

Byrdie dragged Alice to the Wyrm with the promise of another job. But when they stepped foot into the bar, they were greeted with a facefull of smoke and a den of every Serpents she had ever known.

“Surprise!” they cheered in surprisingly decent unison.

Alice blinked back a tear. “What the hell is going on?”

The normally rustic bar was decorated with pink and blue table cloths. Baby pictures lined the cork board that was normally covered in flyers.

“It’s your baby shower, dumbass,” smirked Byrdie. “We take care of our own.”

By the end of the night, she had the Topaz’s old stroller, a few toys, and pile of donated clothes -for her and for the baby

Alice was not the first Southsider to get knocked up and she was certainly not the last.

-

She named him Charles.

When he was born, he was 7.7 pounds and he had a tuft of white-blonde hair that turned to brown by the time he was 6.

He took after her which was a relief. It was only when Alice squinted that she saw FP in the shape of his nails, or in his dark chocolate eyes.

Nobody else ever noticed.

Or if they did, they never mentioned it. She was fine with that. 


	2. The Little Chicken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A grown-up Chic meets his kid sister, Betty, at the park. She has some questions about her parents' past and Chic is the only one willing to give her answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiiii I'm completely blown away by the response to the first part. Thank you thank you thank you!

“Betty! Hey, Sorry I’m late! Work was insane,” Chic dropped into the empty swing next to his kid sister. She was fifteen, but she would always be the baby of the family. He glanced around the park. There was somebody missing. “Where’s Polly? Did she bail again?”

“She’s seeing Jason Blossom,” Betty grinned. “Don’t tell anyone. You know how Dad gets.”

“Seriously? Again? She must really like him,” Chic paused, and Betty ignored his mischievous grin “Say, how are things going with the other redheaded boy in town?”

“Can we not talk about Archie today?” Betty felt her cheeks flush as she kept her gaze fixed firmly on the sand. “I actually have other matters to discuss, Charles.”

“ _Charles_?" he raised an eyebrow. "Must be serious. What’s on your mind?”

“My parents," Betty sighed dramatically. "It’s been ten years since the divorce and I still don’t know what happened.”

Chic glanced at the ground. The divorce was finalized when Betty was 5 and Polly was 6, and Chic knew she didn't really remember a life that didn't involve every other weekend in the Southside.

Now a teenager, Betty wished for stability, for slight deviations from the custodial agreement that didn’t have the potential to cause World War III. She longed for a cohesive family unit… One where she could meet her older half-brother at the park without having to deceive her father.

Hal insisted Chic was a bad influence and would corrupt his girls, even though Chic did well in school - Alice would never accept anything less- and now in his mid-20s, he was an upstanding cop working under Sheriff Keller.

“Betty…It’s not my place.”

“Please, Chic. I know that whatever happened between them is between them, but it affects all of us. I’ve tried talking to them and they just give me this Disneyfied version of the story. You’re the only other person in the world that can help me make sense of it.”

Chic had been there since the beginning of his mother’s doomed relationship with Hal Cooper. While Betty and Polly couldn’t read when their parents’ marriage imploded, Chic was already a teenager.

“Okay. Fine,”Chic sighed. “What do you want to know?”

Betty’s eyes lit up as she hopped off the swing to dig through the bookbag she had tossed on the ground. She pulled out a small notebook and couldn’t help but the proud smile when her cop brother complimented her investigative vigour.

“How did they get together? Did they ever love each other? What made Mom kick him out?”

“Whoa. Slow down, Nancy Drew. One thing at a time,” he chuckled. “When I was about 7, Mom handcuffed herself to the doors of Southside Elementary School to protest the school board’s discriminatory funding policies. Hal was covering it for The Register… I guess one thing led to another and next thing I knew, I was being forced to go bond with him over milkshakes.”

Betty nodded and scribbled something down in her trusty notebook.

“I don’t know if they were ever in love,” Chic continued, “but they didn’t always used to hate each other. As for you last question… she kicked Hal out because of me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Betty and Polly’s earliest memories were of them pretending to be asleep while their parents screamed at each other downstairs.

Chic’s earliest memories were of watching cartoons in Old Man Topaz’s living room and playing with toy police cars while his mother went on work trips to Canada.

One time she came home late. Four days late. She scooped him up in her arms and peppered his face with sloppy kisses.

“You smell bad,” he said.

“I know,” she smiled, but she still looked so sad. “This is why you have to take a bath every day, Mister. Otherwise you’ll be smelly like me!”

He remembers how she tensed when she saw the police car he was playing with. “Where did you get that?”

“Ms Peabody gave it to me! It lights up and everything!” he pressed the button to show his point. “She said that you get to ride in police cars a lot. Is that true?”

She clenched her jaw. “They’re really not very comfortable.”

“Can I go with you next time?”

“Absolutely not!” she said. “Charles Smith, the only time you’re ever going to ride in a police car is when you _are_ the police. Have I made myself clear?”

 

-

 

He was seven years old when his mother brought him to Pop’s and introduced him to her new mysterious friend who had been taking her out every Friday night for the past five months.

Apparently his name was Hal which Charles thought was a stupid name. His mom’s new _boyfriend_ (ew) had dirty blonde hair that was gelled back perfectly and his button up checkered shirt made him look like he stepped out of a Gap commercial.

He noticed his mother nervously playing with the silver chain around her neck as Hal asked mundane questions. What grade are you in? Who’s your teacher? What’s your favourite movie? Do you like cats or dogs better?

(The answers were: second; Mr Weatherbee; Jurassic Park; and why can’t he have both?)

Charles asked questions of his own. How did you and mom meet? Are you going to get married? Are you going to be my dad?”

(The answers were: went to high school together; maybe but that’s a long time from now; and only if you want.)

 

-

 

When he was eight years old, Chic asked his mother if Hal liked him.

“Don't be ridiculous, Chic. Of course he likes you! He's taking you to Pop’s tomorrow, just the two of you.”

“That’s just because he thinks it’ll make you like him,” he muttered. “He doesn’t care about me.”

“Charles Smith!” Alice gasped. “You take that back. Hal is not using milkshakes to gain favour with me. Please, just give him a chance."

Charles knew his mother thought Hal would be good for them - he had heard it a million times. So he hung his head, let the guilt wash over him.

“Okay, fine”.

But it meant that he knew what he’d be eating tomorrow, so there was that.

 

-

 

Five years later, Chic was thirteen years old and he lived on the Northside with his mom, step-dad and two little sisters.

And his mother was yelling at her husband to _get the fuck out of her house_.

“Calm down, Alice. It’s not a big a deal!”

“Not a big deal? You made Chic walk 5 miles in a lightning storm.”

“He shouldn’t have missed the bus! That boy needs to learn about consequences.”

“There’s a time and a place for life lessons. This is not one of them,” she said. “You put my son in danger. There is no excuse. You need to leave.”

“Please, Alice. This is my house. You Southside scum would never have survived the last few years without me. I saved you and your kid from that life. You can’t walk away from me.”

“Save your sanctimonious bullshit. I'm not your project, Hal. I don’t need saving,” she opened the door. “Now get out.”

He grabbed his keys and walked out the door. She slammed it behind him and collapsed against it.

“I'm sorry I didn't listen, I'm so so sorry,” tears streamed down her face. “I should have left him years ago but I can’t keep pretending it’s all fine when it’s not. I’m so sorry, Chic.”

Chic wrapped his arms around her. “It's okay, I’m okay, it will be okay.”

 

* * *

 

Betty set her notebook down and reached for her brother’s hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to blame me for splitting up your family,” Chic confessed.

“Chic, it’s not your fault.”

“I know that. Of course I know that.”

But Chic also knew that in many ways, he did derail his mother’s life. He’d never admit it to Betty or anybody else, but he couldn’t help but feel like he condemned Alice Smith to the Southside Serpents.

 

* * *

 

By the time Chic was seventeen, he rarely got to see his sisters. His mother’s former gang ties did not serve her well in the eyes of the family court judge. She and Chic moved back to Sunnyside Trailer Park, and every other weekend, his sisters crossed the tracks and joined them.

Chic knew his mom had been doing favours for The King again. For how long, he could never be sure. She kept him firmly away from trouble and had a near meltdown when she found a bottle of rum in his closet.

It pissed him off to no end considering what she has stashed in the trunk of her car. He snapped.

“No wonder Polly never wants to visit! Your standards are so impossible, even you can’t meet them!”

“Charles, you take that back.”

“What good will that do? It’s the truth.”

“Everything I do is to survive. All I want is for my kids to have choices that I never got to have.”

 

-

 

One day Chic was about to leave for football practice to find The King sitting in the middle of the Smith trailer. It had been a lifetime since Chic had actually laid eyes on the man. When had he gotten so old? So frail?

Chic hovered by the door, not daring to make a sound.

“Alice, you and I both know I don’t have much time. My boy never wanted this, but I'm hoping that you do.”

A month later, every Serpent in the state was standing at a funeral and Chic’s mother was proudly wearing a ratty leather jacket. It wasn’t her usual Serpent jacket - it was much too big, it almost swallowed her whole.

It smelled like old cigarettes. The same ones that killed the King.

 


	3. Abnormal Circumstances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Polly and Jason need a place to crash and Chic meets somebody interesting at work.

“He’ll be back any minute now. Make sure to stick to the script,” stated Polly as her leg jittered uncontrollably. Jason didn’t know what else to do but to put what he hoped was a reassuring hand on her bouncing knee. “Thanks, Jason. You always know just what to do.”

In normal circumstances, Jason Blossom wouldn’t have been caught dead in a dingey apartment so close to the tracks. He would be disowned in a heartbeat. Which was irrelevant since he was going to be disowned anyway once the truth came out. 

It felt like forever before the door opened to reveal Polly’s concerned brother. 

“Polly? Jason? What are you doing here?” 

That was all it took for Polly to break and the tears to start flowing. Chic immediately beelined for his sister and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

“Whatever it is, I’ve got you, Polly. I’ve always got you.”

“We need help. We didn’t know where else to go,” she managed between sobs. Chic had given her and Betty spare keys to his place just in case. Polly had never needed to use it until that moment. 

“I’m pregnant, Chicky,” Polly confessed. Her voice was so small, so scared. Jason looked toward the carpet, hating himself to putting her in this delicate situation. 

“Shhh..it’s okay, it’s okay,” he murmured into her hair. 

She pulled away roughly. “No, you don’t get it. It’s not okay! Dad told me to _ take care of it _ , mom will probably put out a hit on Jason for knocking me up, and the Blossoms already hate me because of some stupid hundred-year-old family feud!”

Not only did he knock up a girl, he knocked up a  _ Cooper _ . His father was going to  _ murder _ him if Alice Smith didn’t do it first. 

“What are you two going to do?” he asked softly.

“We’re keeping it,” Polly said firmly with a hand on her belly. Jason nodded and gripped Polly’s hand. He was committed. 100%.

Chic eyed him warily. “If you walk out on my sister, or your kid, you’ll have me to answer to.”

Jason gulped.

“I guess you two are staying here until further notice?” Chic asked. “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. You two can have my bed… Just for the love of all that is holy, keep it PG!”

Polly’s arms wrapped around his neck. “Thank you thank you thank you.”

 

-

  
  


They had been crashing at Chic’s for two weeks at that point. Her dad thought she was slumming it in the trailer park, and his parents were more than happy to not have anything to do with them. Alice Smith was the only parent left to tell but Polly kept backing out, anxiety flaring at the disappointment of repeating her mother’s and late grandmother’s mistakes. 

It took Betty facetiming Alice Smith for Polly to finally come clean. 

“Betty? What happened? Where are you?” 

Betty’s phone’s screen was small, but the three of them could see the worry in their mother’s pixelated face. 

“Hi Mom, just calling to let you know that Polly and I are staying with Chic for a few days,” she explained quickly. 

“What? Why?” Alice frowned. “Elizabeth, what did your father do now?”

“Um, well…It’s complicated,” Betty looked at her sister for help. “Polly should explain.” 

She passed the phone to her older sister.

“Dad and I had a big fight because well...” Polly took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.” 

Alice gaped. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No. I am not,” Polly stated firmly. “Jason and I are keeping the baby and nothing you say will change my mind.”

Alice pinched the bridge of her nose.  “It’s not like you’ve ever listened to anything I’ve had to say, otherwise you wouldn’t even be in this predicament.”

Honestly, the fact that she didn't appear on Chic's doorstep to personally strangle Jason was the best case scenario realized. 

-

“He’s really stepped up,” Jason overheard Chic mentioning to Polly. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without Jason.” 

Jason smiled at her soft confession. He didn’t know what he would do without Polly either. Just a few months ago he was a total asshole, keeping tallies as part of a stupid football tradition. But then something shifted and now Polly and their baby was all that mattered to him.

“Hey, Chic...can I ask you something?” Polly asked tentatively. 

“Um I guess?” Chic replied as though his answer truly mattered to his sister. 

“Do you ever wonder about you father?”

“Sometimes…” Chic admitted. “I used to when I was really young, especially back when Mom married Hal.”

“So why don’t you look for him?”

“Polly, there is a reason why Mom kept me away from him.”

“Chic, it’s not like Mom is the poster-child for rational decision-making,” Polly said pointedly. “What if he’s actually a great guy?”

“That would be so much worse,” sighed Chic. “It would mean that either Mom kept him from me for no reason, or that he didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

 

-

 

But then Chic met the Mayor and everything changed. 

“Mayor McCoy, have you met Officer Charles Smith?” Sheriff Keller motioned to the uniformed man next to him. “He just joined the department a few months ago.”

“Oh fresh meat,” Mayor McCoy’s eyes twinkled. “I’m glad the Sheriff hasn’t scared you off yet.”

“Not yet, anyway,” snarked Keller. 

Chic chuckled as he took her firm hand. “Pleased to officially meet you, Mayor McCoy.”

There was something about her gaze that made him uneasy. It was as though she was studying his very soul. 

“Forgive me, have we met before? You look very familiar,” she asked. 

“I don’t think so.”

“He’s Alice Smith’s boy,” Keller piped in. 

Chic groaned inwardly. It was bad enough that the entire station knew of his connection to the so-called Serpent Queen. It didn’t matter that he had seen her a handful of times since deciding to go to the Academy. 

His mother taught him to always do what he had to to survive, and that included spending his time on the right side of the law. 

Much to his surprise, Sierra McCoy’s eyes lit up at the revelation. “You're Alice's kid? I should have known! You look just like her, but you definitely have your dad's smirk.”

Charles froze.

He had always known he had his dad’s eyes. It wasn’t hard to see that the turbulent ocean in his mother’s eyes were not reflected in his own. 

Nobody had ever mentioned the smirk. 

“You know my parents?”

“We went to high school with them,” she gestured between her and Keller. “Oh the stories I can tell. FP was quite the heartthrob, and your mom has always been quite the hellraiser. You know, she got into a fight with Penelope Blossom minutes after she found out she was pregnant with you.”

Sierra’s nostalgic smile dropped when she noticed Chic’s wide eyes and the frown on Keller’s face. “Why are you looking at me like that? Did I say something wrong?”

“Mayor McCoy, I never knew my father,” Chic stated evenly. “My mother refuses to talk about him.”

“Oh…” Sierra’s eyes widened, the implications dawning on her. “Shit.”

 

-

 

Chic didn’t push the issue, didn’t even ask for a name to follow-up with. His mother was the reigning Serpent Queen; he would not subject the mayor to her scorn. 

But Mayor McCoy’s words rattled in his brain, and Polly’s pregnancy served as a constant reminder of his own unintended conception. 

He enlisted his baby sister to hunt for old year books in the school library. It didn’t take long before she had unloaded Years 1990 to 1993 onto his kitchen table. 

The three siblings plus Jason sat around the small table, each with a different year in hand.

“What was his name again?” Polly asked as she flipped through her designated book. 

“I don’t actually know,” Chic replied and both his sisters groaned dramatically. “I was hoping we could narrow it down somehow.”

“It’s not like we’re looking for your doppelganger. You look exactly like Mom!” Betty pointed out. Jason nodded in agreement. 

“Mayor McCoy called him ‘FP’ which helps a bit?” Chic offered hopefully. They were initials and not a name, but that was better than nothing.

“Wait… FP?” Betty’s head snapped up. She grabbed the book from Polly’s hands and flipped through until she found what she was looking for. “Forsythe Pendleton Jones Jr.”

“Betty, how did you know that?” Polly asked.

“He’s Jughead’s dad. I’ve met him a few times. I think he works for the Blossoms.”

Chic wasn’t paying much attention, eyes drawn to the black and white photo of a high school jock from 25 years ago with an uncooperative tuft of hair falling across his forehead. 

_ Forsythe Pendleton Jones. Forsythe Pendleton Jones. _

He knew that name.

Then it dawned on him.

It was the name that marked the grave of the former Serpent King.

**Author's Note:**

> I have some ideas for this universe. I may come back to play. Let me know what you think! As always, thanks for reading. :)


End file.
